


Good Boy

by KiaSqueaks



Series: The Great Sam Winchester Bingo Card Challenge [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: "Good Boy", BDSM, Bottom Sam, Breathplay, Dom Lucifer (Supernatural), Dom/sub Play, Dom/sub Undertones, Edging, Forced Masturbation, Hurt Sam Winchester, It's not a sweet story., M/M, Master/Slave, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nudes, Orgasm Control, Sam Winchester Bingo Card Challenge, Samuel/Sammy dichotomy, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sexual Violence, Submissive positions, Submissive!Sam, Top Lucifer (Supernatural), Violence, stinging nettles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:08:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13305288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KiaSqueaks/pseuds/KiaSqueaks
Summary: Sam receives a text message from Lucifer that sparks an unsettling and exhilarating night. Follow along as Sam ends up following orders just like he's always been trained to do. But will the temporary soul soothing end up with a deeper mental spiral? Please read the tags. It's not a fun story, there is a lot of negative self-talk and self-hatred. Lucifer is a dick. Sam is emotionally damaged. This is a story for the Great Sam Winchester Bingo Challenge on Tumblr. Submissive!Sam square.





	Good Boy

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ THE TAGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS. PLEASE READ THE TAGS. You have been warned. This is not a picnic but it was very fun to write. Feedback is gleefully welcomed!

“Oh, you have to be fucking kidding me,” Sam breathed, his hand gripping his phone tight enough to turn his fingertips white. He felt his stomach twisting with a bolt of fear and he swallowed deeply. 

He felt that cringe of disgust whenever he opened and read a text from Lucifer. He knew it was wrong, he knew he shouldn’t be entertaining the Devil; but he could never resist it either. The sickening rush, the blinding panic, the pleasure and castigating guilt. The quick swell of shame that slammed into his gut and twisted… it all filled that pit inside of him, calmed the voice that hissed at him, reminding him he was nothing but shit. Nothing good. Demonic, broken, worthless and yet…

And yet, Lucifer never seemed to feel the same. The Devil was never short of insults, barbs, the stinging, mocking undertones never left his voice. But he always praised Sam, told him he was loved, that he was good… and maybe that was all that Sam really needed or wanted. Whatever it was, however damaged it made him… it fed some beast inside of Sam, made him feel at peace, even if only for a moment.

The praise was the drug that sped sickly-sweet through his veins. And he was desperate for another hit. 

He looked down at his phone screen again and hesitated, trying to resist the urge to reply to the simple text message ‘Samuel.’ It was the only thing the text read but whenever Lucifer used that particular name it always ended with Sam in tears and hating himself. He wondered how disgusted Dean would be with him if he knew.

He quickly typed back, fingers dashing over the phone screen ‘Yes, Sir.’ He pushed send before he could chicken out. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat, his fingertips, his thighs… His whole body tensed and then he shuddered as he sank into a chair before his knees could give out. He felt like he was going to start hyperventilating. 

‘Good boy, Sammy,’ Came the reply and the familiar nickname almost made Sam gag. God, he was totally freaking out. He didn’t know how to respond to that. Something told him that “Don’t call me Sammy” wouldn’t put him in a favorable position. 

Luckily, Lucifer kept him from having to figure out a response. ‘There is a box outside the door of your room, go get it, then strip naked and send me a picture… on your knees Samuel, I want to see you present for me... Oh and leave the door unlocked and the curtain open, I expect to see your compliance.’

“Fuck,” Sam breathed again, his voice wavering and rasping at the end. He didn’t know if he could do that, leave the door free for Dean or anyone else to walk in? The curtains open so anyone could see just how disgusting he was? He felt tears welling in his eyes but he scrambled to his feet to retrieve the box outside. After the third time that this had happened, he gave up wondering how Lucifer could find him, and why he was only using the information to send Sam kinky presents instead of smiting him off the face of the earth.

He took a stuttering breath and then opened the box, staring at the contents before swearing and putting it down on the bed, pacing the room for a few moments. His heartbeat pounded in his ears as he gripped the bottom of his shirt and ripped it up over his head, throwing it to the side. His hands dropped to his belt, knuckles grazing the hair trailing from his navel downward.

The rasp of hair sent a shiver down his spine and his nipples tightened when gooseflesh erupted over his arms and stomach.The slither of leather being yanked through denim belt loops louder and more pronounced for his arousal. He hissed and shoved his jeans and boxers down before he bit his lip and stalked over to where the full-length mirror was set up beside the battered dresser. 

He fell to his knees, the flash of pain from his joints connecting with the carpeted floor easing something tight inside of him. He shifted, his ass settling on his heels as he flexed and forced his taut thighs wider, framing his already excited cock between them for the picture. 

He had learned, quickly, that Lucifer preferred him spread wide, blushing and vulnerable in his pictures. The thought of how whorish he looked only made his cock twitch and harden further as he opened the camera app on his phone, angling it carefully for the shot. Chin dipped down, eyes trailing up, teeth nipping at the corner of his lip, chest out, back bowed, cock at attention. A perfect slut, eager to please the Devil and submit to all of his desires. 

He looked up after the photo and stared at himself in the mirror. He looked so different, sometimes it startled him to see himself as anything besides the scrawny kid that had relied on Dean to protect him throughout school. He hated himself, the lengths he would go… but…

His hand trailed up his thigh, fingers tracing the lightly tanned skin, up higher, the light touch almost ticklish as he got towards his inner thigh. He watched himself in the mirror, his eyes riveted on his own reflection as he traced fingers up across his cock. His short fingernails dragged up the underside of his cock, skimming over the vein, catching on the ridge below the head caused his stomach to clench. Digging sharper across the head to leave a faint white scratch line before up into the thatch of dark hair, up through his joy trail and across the dimpled plane of his abdomen. 

His phone beeped. ‘Good boy Sammy, go get on the bed. I want you to start with your fingers. Spit only, two fingers and stretching yourself,’ came the next order. 

Sam stared at it and felt the familiar twist in his stomach as he got up and went to the bed, sticking two of his fingers in his mouth to wet them. He stretched out on his stomach, taking a moment to close his eyes as his cock rubbed slowly against the scratchy hotel comforter and his hips flexed, rocking him into the bedspread with a moment of aching pleasure. God, this was perfect and he tugged his spit-slicked fingers from his mouth and brought them back, trailing them down across his crack. He hiked one knee up a bit so that he could relax easier into the blankets, his fingers tracing his entrance. 

The spit on his fingers was getting cool and tacky and he hugged a pillow under his face and against his chest as he pressed both fingers into himself with a quick hiss of shock. No matter how much he did this, that burn of two fingers at once without the oily slickness of lubricant still burned, sending another wave of goosebumps across his body and forcing his toes to curl. 

He shoved his fingers deeper, the sensation causing his gut to clench and his chest to heave. He still wasn’t used to it and he didn’t know that he ever would be. He continued like that, refusing to let himself have a moment to just relax into it even though his body did relax enough that the stabs of pain from the stretching gave way quickly to sparks of pleasure. 

His phone buzzed again, jolting him from the haze of pleasure that settled over him. He grunted softly and forced himself to pick his face up off the comforter and focus his eyes enough to read the text. ‘Picture, Samuel.’

He hissed and hiked his knees up under himself, letting his cheeks spread wider as he angled back with his other hand, the burning in his shoulders from the stretch only adding to the waves of pleasure from his fingers brushing deeper and teasing against his prostate for the picture. “Oh!” he moaned softly and then he checked the picture before sending it, a new wave of shame rushing through him as he realized that he’d just sent an intimate nude to the Devil. God. 

‘Ginger now, insert it.’ came the next reply, there wasn’t praise this time and it sent a wave of panic through Sam causing him to start slipping into subspace as he grew even more desperate to please. He wasn’t bad. He wasn’t! He knew he was, but he didn’t want others to treat him that way. He took out the finger of ginger, weeping in a baggie and obviously raked over with a serrated blade to the point it was dripping and sticky with juice. The smell of ginger filled the air, the spicy, sweet scent was heady and he bit his lip before positioning it at his entrance and shoving it in. The bulbous head entered him before settling at the narrowed neck, locking it inside of him.

The burning was instantaneous. 

He arched up and then shifted back up to his knees, his body twisting a bit as his fists clenched tightly and he slammed one into the bed. “Fuck… FUCK!” he hissed and then his phone buzzed again ‘Do. Not. Touch. It,’ he saw and he whined. ‘Take out the bundled plants. I want you to spank yourself with it, across your ass and the crease of your thighs, down the back of your thighs then I want you to lay on the bed with your feet planted on the floor and rub it up your body from knees to nipples. Video it.’

Sam panted, his eyes watering as he tried to ignore the aching, heated burn in his ass. He clenched around the damn plug but it didn’t help at all. He couldn’t escape and it only grew hotter as time went on. Desperate for any other sensation, he quickly reached for the bundle of leaves. He didn’t stare too closely, he knew that this wasn’t something gentle and fun. He wasn’t sure what he had in his hand but he knew that it would only prove to bring him more agony, not relief. He could stop this. Anytime he was done, he could stop. He could put the things away, burn them, throw them in the trash. He could block Lucifer’s number, he could refuse to text back, stop sending pictures. 

 

All of these were actions he could take… but he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t give this up for anything.

He took two sucking breaths, they rasped loudly due to the tears and his tightened throat and he shifted, cocking one leg up and bracing himself before slamming the bundle of leaves down on his ass. Instantly it felt like a thousand needles were stabbing him and his entire body jolted as a hoarse keen left him. He quickly brought the bundle up, his hand burning and he took a fold of the blanket into his mouth and bit down before striking himself on the ass and thighs with the bundle of leaves four more times, finally giving in and screaming a bit at the last one. He dropped it and sobbed, great heaving gasps desperately escaping as he tried to get enough air. His hand was shaking uncontrollably and his mind blanked with the pain and growing sensations. 

 

Suddenly though, it was if a huge wave of cold water washed over him as his body erupted in shivers and he flopped onto his back. He could still feel the burn, knew it still hurt and being in this new position only drove the ginger further into his body. 

But he didn’t care. Nothing mattered anymore. He stared at his phone for a moment before he clicked on the video and held it up. His face was deep red, tear tracks were streaming down his face and there was evidence of saliva at the corner of his mouth. There was blood on his lip, pooling a little from where he’d bitten it and ripped the skin enough to let it bleed steadily. He stared at the camera, dazed with his cock pulsing strongly despite the pain. Or, perhaps, because of it. 

He brought the nettles down to his knees, his hand swollen and splotched with hives visible on camera and he began to draw the leaves up his thighs, sending spasms through the muscles as he hissed, keening after a moment and writhing… not that it did anything but flair the pain worse. 

He stared up into the camera for a minute, face pleading for mercy that wouldn’t come.e sobbed and dragged the nettles up over his cock, forcing the leaves against it and screaming as the fiery sensation rushed through the sensitive tissue. He quickly dragged it up over his abdomen then threw it across the room and grabbed his cock with the hand that had been holding the nettles and sobbed. His hand was shaking from the irritation and allergic reaction and he gripped himself tight… too tight, tight enough that it hurt and he arched up and sobbed, the noise tapering to a whine. “Please.” he sobbed. 

He turned the video off and sent it to Lucifer as he forced himself up and off the bed, pacing to try and get rid of the pain. The movement only proved to further aggravate the nettles and press the ginger even further inside of him so he quickly returned to the bed as his body swelled, skin stretching as if he had actual fire beneath his skin that he couldn’t shut off. 

He got a text and dove for the phone, lifting it up and reading the instructions before dropping it and reaching for the weight inside the box and laying down before putting it on his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was supposed to accomplish but the cold metal did soothe some of the sting from the nettles where it touched his swollen skin and he whimpered in relief even as he realized it was much harder to take a deep breath with the weight pressing down on him. He squirmed and then jumped as the phone rang. 

“Yes Sir?” he answered after confirming it was Lucifer’s number. 

“Sammy, Sammy, Sammy,” came the slow, drawling tone of the fallen archangel. 

“Sir,” he whined. His mind was blank, there was no reason he could come up with that would explain why he shouldn’t beg the man on the other side of the phone for relief. 

“Oh Sammy, you’ve been such a good boy for me.” Lucifer purred into the phone, the man’s mocking tone a familiar and almost comforting sound. 

“Yeees.” Sam gasped, panic racing through him for a moment as he realized that the weight was pressing him down too hard into the bed and he couldn’t get a deep breath. It was like he was being slowly strangled but it wasn’t hard enough to actually keep him from being able to get air. He squirmed and whined. “Please,” he begged Lucifer then. 

“Touch yourself, Samuel,” he said firmly, drawing out Sam’s name and he closed his eyes as he tried to get enough air. He was getting light headed from the lack of oxygen and the pain pulsing through him. The slow, drawling tones had him so close to the edge that he gave a hiccupping sob as his hand tightened around his cock. 

He tried to ignore the stinging and the welts that had risen over his cock and thighs as his fingers traced up over the head of his cock, gathering the precum leaking out over the swollen head of his cock. He whimpered into the phone as his fingers spread out over the head of his cock then tightened as they slipped lower, over the ridge and finally dragging slowly down the shaft.

He tried to grab a large gulp of air but only managed to gasp weakly as he stroked up, twisting his hand just a bit, enough to send another rush of pleasure through him. “Don’t cum,” came the order from Lucifer as he grew close. devastated whimper left his throat as he gripped his cock tight but stopped stroking as pulsing waves of pain and pleasure crashed into each other. His body wasn’t sure what felt good and what hurt anymore and all of it was sending his body through waves of confused ecstasy. 

“Hold yourself but don’t cum,” Lucifer coached, tone switching to bored over the speaker of the phone. He purred. “I love seeing you like this Sammy, you’re such a dirty slut. Stroke yourself,” he demanded and he laughed at the weak whimper that came through the phone. 

Sam stroked himself, only three pumps into the order and his hips jerked up hard. Suddenly, finally, he broke. “Please… please Lucifer. Please let me cum,” he begged. 

“No… not until you get my name right,” Lucifer said in a sing-song voice. 

“Master, please!” Sam begged, his hand tightening as he stroked his cock at a desperate pace, his thigh shaking from the effort of holding back. 

“Cum for me, Sammy,” Lucifer’s honeyed purr slithered over the phone and Sam cried out sharply before losing consciousness. 

~*~*~ 

Lucifer got out of the car and went inside the hotel room, glad he’d ordered the abnormally tall human to unlock the door. He pulled the weight off of Sam’s chest, glad to see the pale man gain color from that simple fix. He wouldn’t want his true vessel to become damaged after all. 

He shifted Sam‘s leg to the side and tugged out the ginger plug, using a threadbare towel to pick up the nettles and threw them carelessly into the box. He flipped the blanket over the human and smirked at him, blue eyes roaming over Sam’s still strained face and painful welts from the nettles that peaked from beneath the cheap blanket before taking the box and leaving. 

He put the box in the car and had the demon driver speed off as he glanced at his phone and sent one last text. ‘Good Boy.’

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews are like whiskey, please get me drunk!


End file.
